


If you thought about time then it would be your friend

by lost_decade



Category: Formula E RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Coming Untouched, F/M, Hungover Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: It isn’t the first time André has woken up next to James on January 1st and it probably won’t be the last. He curses it now though, blinking through the sleep in his eyes and stretching out to grab the glass of water from the nightstand, thankful at least that he’d had his wits about him enough to fetch it before going to bed; even if lifting his head slightly to drink it is somewhat pain-inducing. The bed is creaking. The noise and movement far too vicious for the pounding in André’s head, the taste of pisco sour seemingly embedded in his tongue.





	If you thought about time then it would be your friend

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure filth born out of my New Year's Day hangover.
> 
> Title taken from Down But Not Yet Out by Felt.

It isn’t the first time André has woken up next to James on January 1st and it probably won’t be the last. He curses it now though, blinking through the sleep in his eyes and stretching out to grab the glass of water from the nightstand, thankful at least that he’d had his wits about him enough to fetch it before going to bed; even if lifting his head slightly to drink it is somewhat pain-inducing. The bed is creaking. The noise and movement far too vicious for the pounding in André’s head, the taste of pisco sour seemingly embedded in his tongue. He lies back down, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over his forehead, trying to block out the high pitched whines and low grunts coming from the other side of the bed. His dick isn’t quite so keen on ignoring it, morning erection hard against the sheets.

Grudgingly he has to admit that yes okay, he’s that kind of shockingly hungover that also makes him insatiably horny, even as the rest of his body has no fucking energy to do anything about it. James, it appears, does not have the same problem.

“Fuck yeah your pussy feels so good. Yeah that’s it, fuck yourself on my cock.”

André whimpers, his head a mariachi band of agony, turning over to face them and giving James the most scathing frown he can manage. “Really?”

“Happy New Year,” James winks, touching André’s cheek affectionately before sliding his hands back up to grip Tess’ hips, thrusting up into her with renewed vigour. The blonde tosses her head back, her whole body arching and undulating as she grinds down on James’ cock with a soft moan, “morning André,” whispered breathily.

André rubs at his eyes, squinting blearily at her and wondering why James’ type is so fucking predictable, where he even gets all these blonde models. He’d introduced her the previous evening at the bar as _my new Europe thing_ , so blasé that it made André laugh. Still, at least it’s better than the day when James will finally settle down, marry one of these girls and stop inviting him into his bed. A thought too unbearable for André to contemplate only seven hours into the year.

“God yeah, you’re so tight,” James moans.

“That’s what he says to all the girls and boys,” André deadpans, pressing his head back into the pillow in the hope that the pressure will dull the pain. His dick is throbbing and he's the kind of gross, sweaty hungover where nothing other than an orgasm is going to make him feel better.

“Oh fuck, James. There, right there.” Tess leans forward, her hands braced on James’ chest, biting her lip. André's cock twitches against his stomach. It's a while since he's had James inside him but not long enough for him to have forgotten how it feels to have the head of James’ dick rubbing against his prostate.

The fuzzy memory of last night, or earlier this morning as it was, prods at him. The silken heat and weight of James’ cock in his mouth always a head-rush of pleasure no matter how many times André has done that for him.

James had eaten Tess out while André had sucked him off, their natural competition taking hold. The satisfaction of James filling his mouth with spunk before his own efforts could lead Tess to climax making the experience highly worthwhile.  André’s dick throbs at the thought, enough to prompt some idle stroking. He rubs his thumb over the slit of his dick, gasping at the sensation at the same time as James reaches for his other hand, guiding it between Tess’ thighs. André wants to protest, not much in the mood to be a tool for their pleasure when no-one's paying him any attention, but he finds himself complying anyway, stroking his fingertips over her clit and then lower, feeling the base of James’ cock. He shifts down a bit for a better angle, tracing the shape of her cunt, pushing a finger into her soft wetness alongside James’ cock, making her shudder and clench.

James twists around, nosing at André's neck, pressing kisses over his jaw until he turns his head, opening his mouth to James’ tongue. They kiss messily, James moaning into André's mouth as their tongues slide together, André letting his finger rub against the underside of James’ cock before slipping it out and bringing it to James’ lips, giving him a taste of her.

“Fuck, I'm close,” James groans, the movements of his hips becoming more erratic. André trails a hand down James’ chest, pinching and scratching at his nipples, then lower to rub at Tess’ clit again, letting her grind against his palm, her moans becoming louder. He's been with women before but not for a long time. Looking up at her now he tries to remember the last time, years ago when he was still trying to convince himself. She's very beautiful, lean and lithe. Inexplicably André finds himself thinking of Jev, of what he feels when he's fucking Lorene, which parts of her body he likes the best, if he's memorized every part of her, if there's anywhere his tongue hasn't touched. Does she know him the same, this soon?

His cock throbs at the thought of Jev's body, so familiar from a season of being around each other but undiscovered in the way that André would really like to learn him. It's an old cliché from André's past, the habit he has of losing his heart to straight men, unavailable men, guys who let him lie to himself about being okay with casual. It's something he thought he’d grown out of. With Jev it feels different and there’s moments where he’s hoped, where he’s felt so sure, times when they’ve been drunk and Jev has looked up at him with those dark soulful eyes and André has almost leaned in and kissed him. Every time he’s come close, the memory of when he’d been young and naïve and had once misread that kind of situation is enough of a deterrent for him to not quite lose his control, the phantom ache of a decades old punch to the jaw. He knows that even James, with all the times he’s had his dick in André’s ass, still considers himself to be straight apart from a couple of exceptions.

Tess shifts against André’s hand, reaching down to direct him and holding his fingers where she needs them, moaning at the renewed friction. She looks away from James just before she comes, locking eyes with André in a way that makes him feel incredibly exposed for a second before collapsing forwards onto James’ chest, shuddering and gasping through her orgasm as André continues to stroke her clit, his fingers slick with her wetness. He frees his hand when she stills, James fucking into her body with no finesse now, chasing his own orgasm. André licks his fingers clean purely to fuck with him, because he knows James won’t expect it.

The younger man curses raggedly as he thrusts in deep a couple more times, his hips halting as he grips Tess’ arse, holding her in place. They kiss then, languidly and with enough tongue that André recognises it as part of a show, from James’ side anyway. He feels oddly separate from them, watching their post-coital affection with one hand wrapped idly around his cock, unsure why he’d thought it was a good idea to go to bed with them both rather than staying in the guest room last night.

Tess leans over and kisses him affectionately on the cheek before letting James’ softening cock slip free from her, stepping from the bed and blowing them both a kiss before disappearing into the en-suite.

“Do you have lube?” André asks, watching as James removes the condom from his dick, wrapping it in tissue and dropping it to the floor. He's starting to feel kind of bored, restless to be out of here. Come and then go. The story of his fucking life.

“Yeah, in the drawer,” James gestures to the cabinet on André’s side of the bed. “But I have no fucking energy left, mate. You’ll have to wait till later before I can get it up again.”

“Or you can finger me instead.” André raises his eyebrows, getting the lube and tossing it to James, kissing him slowly until the pain in his head forces him to lie back down again with a groan. “It's the least you can do considering I just helped you get your girlfriend off.”

James flips him the finger, laughing as he rolls onto his side and starts to stroke André’s leaking cock, rubbing his thumb over the wetness at the tip and trailing it over André’s stomach, the muscles shifting and tightening. “Get on your hands and knees,” James instructs, pushing his knee between André’s thighs and cupping his jaw as he brushes their lips together. “Mm, you feel so good clean shaven.”

André bites at James’ bottom lip. “I’m not moving. If you wanted me to move you should have thought about it before feeding me that much mezcal.” André squirms against him, feeling needy and turned on and a little bit sick. “Make me come and then make me some coffee,” he says in the most endearing tone he can manage, spreading his legs wider with a gasp as James rubs his thigh up against his cock.

He whimpers when James closes his fist around him, stroking him firmly in a rhythm that André could lose himself in, before stopping and shifting down the bed to settle between André’s thighs, ignoring his cock and pushing his legs up and apart. The movement is enough to make André’s head spin but he forgets about his hangover momentarily when James’ fingers brush over his hole, the sensation making him shiver, pre-come beading at the tip of his dick. He wants the raw pleasure of James’ cock inside him, uncharacteristically jealous at how Tess got to have him first, craving a deeper intimacy than he has any right to demand of his friend.

“Wait,” he grabs James’s wrist at the sound of the lube being uncapped, glancing down the bed to catch his eye. “Use your mouth on me?”

“Filthy bitch,” James replies, grinning at him as if challenging him to dispute the words, before kissing his way up the inside of one thigh, pulling André further down the bed and reaching for a pillow to shove under his lower back for better access.

“You love it,” André quips, heat in his eyes. The sound of the shower coming from the en-suite feels like a thunderous waterfall echoing in André’s head but the soft wet sweep of James’ tongue over his asshole is enough to cancel it out, to silence his thoughts. André sinks into the feeling, gripping his own thighs so tightly his knuckles blanch white as James holds him apart, breath warm and teasing before he leans forward to kiss and lick over him, circling his tongue around until André is trembling so hard he almost kicks James in the head. It feels so intensely satisfying, the way James alternates between dipping the tip of his tongue into him and just swiping the flat of it over him. André feels as though he’s burning up, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and an ache in his whole body. His cock is leaking copiously and he so desperately needs to come, needs to be touched and touched, taken to pieces and rebuilt.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he shoves back against James’ tongue, whining and biting his lips at the obscene sounds of James working him over. When James holds him open enough to ease the saliva slick tip of one finger into him he almost loses it, releasing the grip on his thighs and wrapping a hand around his cock, stroking over his balls with the other, twitching as he feels the cold slick of lube on him, easing the way.

James is often like this, teasingly slow, trying to take him apart in any way he can. André isn't entirely sure it's what he needs right now, even though he's the one who asked for it, mind too fogged to form any coherent thoughts. It feels amazing though, the rough slide of James’ fingers as he pushes two of them in all the way to the knuckle, letting André get used to the sensation for a moment before fucking them in and out of him. André grunts at the stretch as James scissors his fingers, hand moving faster on his cock as he feels his release building, his whole body tight and wracked with shivers as James bends his head and André feels his tongue licking around his fingers, dipping between them.

“Hands,” James says sternly, stopping.

Actually fucking _stopping._

André swears at him, not even comprehending what he means until James knocks André's hand away from his dick. “Come on. If all you wanted is a quick wank you didn't need me for that. Let me get you off like this.” James fucks his finger back into André's asshole demonstrably. He isn't even sure he can come just from this, but he finds himself reaching both hands behind his head to grip the wooden slats of the headboard. André begs, pleading and writhing against James’ tongue and fingers, his cock twitching against his stomach. The effort of keeping his legs up is becoming more and more difficult and he rests one of them on James’ shoulder, moaning when the shift in angle makes James’ fingers slide deeper, screwing his eyes shut and arching off the bed as James strokes over his prostate almost painfully hard. It's a game James is an expert at playing, bringing André to the brink with his fingers and then stopping, withdrawing them to go back to licking at him, pushing both thumbs into him and just _looking_ until André presses his face against his arm in shame.

André flinches at the realisation that Tess is back in the room, feeling the bed dip beside him and then the shower-damp press of her hand soothingly touching his forehead.

“You're so gorgeous,” she compliments, and as James’ girlfriends go she's definitely one that André approves of. He opens his eyes, giving her a genuine smile that turns into a grimace as James bites the inside of his thigh. He has three fingers fucking into André now, the stimulation almost too much for his body to handle. The pleasure builds within him, everything falling away except for the movement of James’ fingers dragging over his prostate. His cock is leaking so much pre-come, his ass clenching as he cries out, coming hard over his stomach, James not stopping until he's shaking and trying to squirm away. James doesn't let him, withdrawing his fingers gently and holding André down by the hips, licking up the length of his cock and then swirling his tongue through the spunk that splatters up to his chest, gathering it up. It drips down his chin as he crawls up André's body, spitting it into his mouth and sucking it from his tongue as they kiss. André releases his grip on the headboard, stroking James’ back, holding him close.

“And you say _I'm_ filthy.” André whispers, squeezing James’ ass and stretching out, enjoying the last tremors of pleasure that course through him. The pain above his right eye has definitely lessened, a blissful sense of relaxation making him sleepy.

“Yeah, wonder who I got that from hey.” James noses at his jaw affectionately. “Jesus, I really need some fucking coffee.”

André does too. More than that he needs to be held for longer, needs the strength of James’ arms around him lulling him into a state of mind where he can kid himself just for a short time that this is something else, before reality kicks in. It's not something he can put into words, not with Tess as a witness anyway, and he mumbles his agreement about the coffee instead, turning away from them both and looking out at the early morning sun, the sky aflame with swathes of scarlet. The drive up to Paris tomorrow crosses his mind briefly. _You should come meet cheetah_ the text had said, accompanied by a photo of Lorene holding the kitten, smiling into the camera. 

André knows he should shower, wash away the stink of sweat and sex. A few more minutes, he thinks, listening as James follows Tess through into the kitchen. The sound of the coffee machine is harshly loud on his ears but it seems preferable to the laughter and soft kisses of their flirting somehow.


End file.
